Hope in Gotham
by SnoopyGirl77
Summary: Meet the one and only Hope Wayne, heiress to the Wayne fortune and all around bad girl. But beware! Appearances can be deceiving. Rated Teen just in case, but the rating may rise in later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

Okay everybody, this is only my second fic ever so go easy on me please. Also, I'm looking for a good beta so if you could drop me a line when you review, I would be grateful.

Disclaimer: I do not own Batman, becase DC Comics owns him and ll the other marvelous characters in his comic books. I only own Hope Wayne.

Chapter One: Meet Hope Wayne

"So, tell me about your father.", the psychiatrist asked. You could tell she was new. Her eyes kept darting around as if afraid of some sort of attack and her shelves were filled with books about 'teen angst' and the like. She was like a walking talking Barbie doll.Her blond hair shimmered in the sunlight streaming through the huge windows and big blue eyes watched me intently, not to mention a nice body (with plenty of curves in the necessary places). My father had probably picked this one because of her looks alone. I sighed. This wouldn't be too hard. It was the experienced ones it took some time to break.

"He's super cool. You know, super rich and all that. My imaginary friend Jimmy especially likes him. Ever since I poisoned that one guy's food he really likes me too!", I replied, making sure to talk in the high bubbly voice that most teenage girls preferred. The woman looked up abruptly from her littlepink notepad in which she had been scribbling furiously, searching myface for a lie. I put my mask on, puppy dog eyes and all, covering my features completely. I could see myself in her eyes. An unruly teenage girl in withdrawal from her father because he is the richest, most eligible bachelor in the world. The black make-up and rebellious behavior were just an outlet for pent up aggression against her father's many lady friends.

Diagnosis: She would grow out of this depressive stage soon enough.

Ha. Yeah, right. I didn't just dislike my father. I despised him with a ferocity most didn't understand. I'd grown up as the good girl, listening to my elders, always the sweetest child anyone had ever seen. No more. I dyed my raven black hair with purple streaks when I was eleven, my first sign of the oncoming war between my father and I. At the age of twelve I had gotten both ears pierced, as well as my navel. A year later I came to acquire the Chinese symbol of darkness that remained nestled right between my shoulder blades. My violet eyes now glimmered with hatred, instead of innocence any young woman should have. I had changed over the years of women, parties, and late nights with my father.

"You have an imaginary friend?", the woman asked. I looked up, surprised at that comment. Actually, I was more in disbelief then anything else. She actually believed me! This was unprecedented. I usually had to go on to harder stuff before they started to even consider how mentally ill I really was. This would be fun.

"Of course! He's the best. He tells me to do stuff all the time, like burndown the houseand stuff like that. I once threw a priceless Chinese sculpture out the window because of Jimmy. Ming dynasty, I think. Daddy wasn't to happy about that, nor the time I tried to hang myself in the living room. I wonder why?", I replied with a lofty note of wonder, pretending to be completely oblivious to her growing horror.I smiled. My little inside smile. Now she thought I was both homicidal and suicidal.

"Okay, I think we're finished for today.'", the woman said, grabbing my backpack and shoving it into my arms as she pushed me to the door. I decided to give it one more try.

"Are you sure you don't want to hear about Philippe! He likes to talk about drugs and alcohol a lot!" At that she slammed the door in my face, an audible sighcouldbeheard from the other side of the door. As I walked down the sidewalk to the awaiting limo I started to laugh. Not a giggle like most fourteen year old girls, but a maniacal laugh like in the horror movies. After all, my talent was unnerving people. It was a gift I received from my only friend. His name is Tim, and he is the famous superhero of Gotham called Robin.

"I'm home!", I yelled as I walked through the huge front doors of Wayne manor. From the outside Wayne Manor is quite an impressive, if not intimidating building. If one did not know the intricacies of the mansion, one could get lost for days, or even weeks of time. Growing up in such a big house had had it's advantages, and its disadvantages. In my early years my young mind could not grasp why my father did not talk to me or show me any affection. My mind could not stretch to understand why the man I depended on loved a small orphan boy who had wandered into our home more than me. Eventually I had pried far enough to make Alfred tell me the "family" secret. It had angered me that my flesh and blood would put strangers above me, but I had grown away from the pain. The neglect had dulled me over time. Never would I let anyone near to my heart as I had before then.Tim had reached out after Dick had left and Jason killed. Barbara had ignored me, and Cassie probably still had no idea that there was another female in the house. As for 'dad', I hadn't spoken to him in three years time. I avoided him, and he avoided me. As long as I obeyed the rules (no crime fighting, no leaving the house after dark, no bothering father while he works), I was left to my own devices. A shout shook me from my thoughts.

"Where have you been?", a slightly angry voice echoed through the entrance hall. A stocky teenager came thumping down the staircase, looking slightly out of breath as he came closer. His black hair clashed with the bright blue eyes, while his sixteen year old lithe body would have made any girl swoon. This was Tim, the masked hero also known as Robin.

"Father set me up with another psychiatrist.", I replied, passing him as he stopped at the bottom. My father had had no interest in my life for the past three years except to send me to more and more psychiatrists. Well, I'd show him. "I'll be in the training room.", I yelled to him over my shoulder. As I made my way into the depths of the mansion, I thought about my father. I had always wondered why he disliked me so. He was the one who had done this to me. He was the one to ignore me, neglect me. It's not that I was needy for any sort of world-y possessions, but I had never felt 'love' from anyone. Instead, I had buried myself in my martial arts. By now, I was sure I could beat my father. Seven years of non-stop training could do that to you.

Arriving at the training room, I didn't bother changing out of my usual attire. Although it was harder to move in huge lace up boots, it helped my strength to work with them on. Grabbing a bo stick from the rack, I began my normal exercises. Envisioning four opponents surrounding me, I jabbed, kicked, sliced, and smacked with the best of them. One behind me got a nice shove into the solar plexus, followed by an upward slash to the one to my right. Breathe in, breathe out. This was where I belonged. Not in some tailored dress or at some up scale party. Pivot, swing, thrust. I belonged fighting any and all opponents who dared oppose me. As a sweat slowly broke out on my forehead, I began to speed up. My slashes became more precise, whistling through the air. Suddenly, I was torn from my concentrated state by a noise behind me. I realized that someone was clapping.

"Well, I'm impressed. A girl of your age being able to break into this house without any help. You didn't even go for the money vault in my office. Your skills are magnificent, I'll give you that.", a deep voice praised from the corner. Turning slowly, I came face to face with the one man I never wanted to lay eyes on again. Bruce Wayne, the lucrative millionaire. Also known as Batman and my father.

"I have no idea what you're talking about.", I replied truthfully. Then I realized the odd comments and tone of voice. He didn't recognize me. My own father had no idea what I looked like. Narrowing my eyes, I glared hatefully at the smug grin plastered on his face.

"Now really. I must give praise where it should be granted. You are one talented girl. I almost want to offer you a job for pulling off this little stunt.", he replied smoothly, stepping from the corner. His suit was impeccable as always, and not a hair was out of place on his head. His shrewd blue eyes looked me up and down as if I was a piece of meat. Myire grew with every second.

"Next time you come snooping around my business, make sure you know who you're talking to _father._", I spat the last word as if it were dirty. A confused expression passed over his face before a dawning realization followed swiftly afterward. Throwing my bo stick at him, I stormed from the room with a resounding "BANG" of the doors signaling my angry departure.

Like it? Hate it? Review please, but no flames. If I don't get enough reviews I won't update, so please review!


	2. Chapter 2

My life had always been easy. If I wanted a toy or a pony it was in my bedroom by the next morning. I was daddy's little princess, and I was always happy in that fact. But there came a time when material possessions couldn't fill the void that my father's disappearances left. As his nightly escapades, either with women or in secret, became longer and more consistent I felt myself asking if I really was daddy's little princess. After all, wouldn't a princess have more company as she played in the magnificent gardens or when she spent hours on end staring blankly at a book? Maybe my life was easy compared to other people's, but it wasn't better.

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As I marched up to my room, my disbelief and rage overwhelmed me. How could he not have known his own daughter? His own flesh and blood? Why did he spend more time with some stupid orphans he picked up off the street then his own… but I had banished those thoughts years go. After the incident I no longer cared. At least Alfred looked after me. Slamming my door behind me I collapsed gratefully onto the purple duvet cover of my queen sized bed. For the first time in many years I let a few tears stumble their way down my cheeks until they wet my shirt. He didn't know me for who I was. What I was. He had never cared enough to know. Batman meant more to him then I ever could. Slowly, I curled into a ball, reminiscing over lost times and distant places. I had always loved plants, and so I had insisted on my room being painted dark green when I was eight years old. The walls were now covered with dark thoughts and sayings, but I could still take comfort in the deep forest green that covered my room. 

Tears slipped out of my eyes slowly, dotting the bedspread. I took deep breaths, calming myself as fast as possible. Tears didn't help me. Tears had never helped me. As I lay down and my eyes fluttered shut I dreamed of a time when no one could ever forget me.

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"Hope, wake up! Come on girl, stop day dreamin'!", a strong southern accent greeted my sudden return to the world of the living, a hand accustomed to hard work and labor waving in front of my face. Kiley, the impatient blond that she is, had decided to wake me from one of my more pleasant dazes that I had encountered in this Algebra II classroom. With two 'nerds' residing in my home, I had already mastered up through Calculus level math, but I had no problem with not informing my dear teacher Mrs. Crawford of that piece of information. 

"What's up?", I yawned, my muscles protesting to the sudden movement. Never go to bed without stretching, I reminded myself once more, or you'll pay dearly for that midnight target practice.

"You can't keep zoning out like that, girl, not to mention you were droolin' somthin' awful.", Kiley impatiently replied, gesturing towards my slobber covered notebook. I blushed slightly at that comment, but brushed it off. "Not ta mention Bobby's back there lookin' at ya."

I squirmed slightly at that, making sure that I didn't turn around. to see for myself. The bell sounding made that all the easier as I escaped the classroom, bag in hand. Kiley caught up easily though.

"Ya seem distracted. What's goin' on?", she queried as we made our way towards the doors. I sighed, explaining the confrontation that had been replaying quite a bit through my mind since it had occurred.

"Man girl, that really sucks. Ya dad actually forgot ya?", Kiley shook her head, her blue-grey eyes betraying her pride in my actions. Kiley had always been the best of confidantes, and she wasn't about to let me down. "My lips are sealed, promise."

But suddenly that didn't concern me anymore. My jaw dropped as I glanced towards the parking lot, stopping in my tracks. Distant calls from Kiley couldn't wake me from this stupor. There, in all his glory, was Wally West. He smiled at me as I stared at the red Porsche that he was slightly leaning on. It's not as if I hated Uncle Wally, but the famous Flash did not drive that type of car. I bid Kiley a quick goodbye and headed for the parking lot.

"Hey, gorgeous. Care for a ride?", he gestured towards the car, opening the passenger side door and the jumping into his won seat behind the wheel. I merely smiled at the speed demon, my infamous smirk of mischief plastered on. My father and Uncle Wally had never really gotten along, but that really was the beauty of it. With his need for speed, Wally was my hero. Especially when he was driving this car.

We sped half-hazard through the free way lines asI leaned into the leather interior. This was the life.

"I know you don't want to talk about it, luv, but Bats is really sorry about last night.", Wally commented as we sped past yet another car. I almost screamed right then and there, but I'm not Bruce Wayne's daughter for nothing.

"I believe that is none of your concern, Mister West.", I coldly replied, causing him to wince. He hated when I called him mister. "Besides, I think I can take care of myself."

"Don't give me that, Hope. I know you too well for that. Besides, when Bats says somethin' is wrong, somethin' is…", he trailed off as I turned my icy stare onto him. He suddenly gulped, pushing the gas just a little bit harder.

"My father", I spat the word as if it were a curse "put you up to this?" He glanced towards me, a look of guilt passing over his face as he turned towards home. "I don't believe this. I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS! HE PUT YOU UP TO THIS!" By now I was screaming, the anger and hatred I was feeling almost palpable in the air. For a second I thought I had lost control, but it returned soon afterwards.

"Now, now, don't get so upset.", he reminded me, reaching to pat my hand as we pulled up to the house. I flinched away, not daring to even look at him before I could calm down again.

"My father does not care for me. Take your damn Porsche and get the hell away from my house. I bet it was just a gift from daddy anyway to get you to try to convince me how good he really is. Well I'm not buying, so just leave. Goodbye Mr. West.", I knew my words hurt him, but his actions had hurt me far worse. The doors burst open as I ran for the house, but it didn't deter me. Neither Tim's voice nor the clatter of china stopped me either. Only the firm hand on my shoulder made me hesitate, but even then I reacted blindly. Flailing and slashing at my captor, I couldn't see or feel anything. I hated them. I hated them all. But my dark thoughts didn't stop the infamous Batman from dragging me to his office as I fought tooth and nail against my capture, like a tiger being led to it's cage.

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He everybody, I'm back again. School is almost up, so I'll be updating more. I promise. Now, I need reviews. Many reviews. The faster they get here the faster the next chapter goes up! Happy May everybody! 


	3. Chapter 3

Hey everyone. My last reviewer kicked me in the butt to get something out, so I decided to leave you with a (sort of) cliffhanger. I know it's short, but so are all of my other chapters! Hope you like it.

Disclaimer: I wish I owned Batman. Man, that would be the sweet life. But as it stands, I'm broke. breaks into sobs

* * *

As the doors slammed, I could almost sense my doom. Batman was infamous for his harsh temper and cold calculations, but he had never turned those talents on me before. Now his trademark glare was centered completely on my bent head.

'This isn't the end', I thought defiantly, stiffening under his chilly gaze. Ice and fire do not mix, and I was about to melt him like the noon day sun.

"What did you think you could gain from that temper tantrum? A lollipop?", the hiss didn't catch me by surprise. I knew that he was angry, but the 'why' was not as evident. "You show disrespect to me, to my colleagues. Your manners have vanished! I didn't raise you to scream and throw a fit if you do not get your way." Ah, there it is.

"Manners? You're concerned with my manners?", I shrieked back, my voice cracking as I tried to reign in my anger. How dare he talk about how he raised me! "What about my training sessions? Or when I sneak out at night to god knows where? Do you care about where I go or what I do? Of course not. You only care about what the public sees us as."

"I've always had your best interests in mind.", my father answered hastily. Maybe a little too hastily.

"Yes, you've always cared for my well being. Those blond bimbos that you brought home every evening when I was six years old were just for me. Or how about the nightly outings against the Joker, or your exchange of witty banter with Catwoman.", I was treated to quite a sight at that comment, probably one few have ever seen. A look of shock crossed the emotionless face of Bruce Wayne at my sarcastic tone. "You think I had no idea of your nightly escapades! My adopted uncle is the Flash, for god's sake. I'm not stupid!"

"You're dim enough not to know when to keep that mouth of yours shut.", Bruce snapped back. I flinched. Yes, I wasn't the sharpest crayon in the box. And he had to remind me of my stupidity at every turn in the road.

"Fine, you think you're so great? That you know everything? I bet you can name every country in the world from memory, but do you know who my Kindergarten teacher was? Do you know the first word I said, or what book I first read? Do you know my favorite color?", I paused, watching his face. It had become a stony exterior once again, his eyes not even reflecting his thoughts. Those ice blue eyes that so many of Gotham's thugs had looked into and run away in fear. I shivered slightly.

"The answer is no. You don't remember. So stop trying to act like a father when you've never been one to begin with. I can take care of myself." At that I rose, and headed for the door.

"Daddy." His baritone voice made me freeze in place, my hand already on the knob. "Your first word was daddy."

He never saw the tears as I walked out of the office.

I returned to my room soon afterwards, ignoring the anxious shouts outside her door. It seemed Jason had decided to take my recovery upon himself. Well, he could rot in the hall for all I cared. I was busy tying my sheets together as a makeshift rope.

"Come on, Hope. You can't stay in there forever. You need to talk about this thing with your dad or you'll go insane!", Jason yelled once again, pounding on the door as if I were deaf. Unfortunately, my death glares seemed to have no effect on the oak door that separated the two of us. Bundling up my makeshift rope, I quickly opened the window and threw the bulk of it out. Tying one end securely to the bed, slowly I climbed down the outside of Wayne Manor. Luckily I had changed into more suitable clothes (ie my baby doll blue tank with worn out jeans and a light jacket instead of that hideous uniform that I'm forced to wear at school every day) because the way down wasn't the easiest. In fact, I landed on my face at the bottom. So much for stealth.

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K, that's it. Review if you want the next update! It only takes a few seconds. Love yas! 


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